


Confessions of a Dead Man

by medusamary



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Dakavendish - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Love Confessions, M/M, Songfic, Suffering, Time Travel, but it's cav so y'know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusamary/pseuds/medusamary
Summary: Every time Cavendish dies, he says the same thing. And every time, Dakota brings him back, and it's like nothing ever happened. At least, to Cavendish, it is.





	Confessions of a Dead Man

**Author's Note:**

> [used this song as influence for the fic! click here to give it a listen :)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTSdJEGswtg)
> 
>  
> 
> i found this in my docs and tried to put some finishing touches on it skdjfksj not very polished but i wanted to publish some dakavendish

_ I’m going back on the things that I know _

 

The first time it happens is… a shock, to say the least.

 

The everyday routine is in full effect: drag Dakota out of bed, receive their mission (pistachios; what else?), ultimately fail, and return to the apartment to be shouted at.

 

God, how Dakota wishes it had gone like that.

 

Blood seeps through Cavendish’s clothes and slowly spreads across the floor, and although it’s staining Dakota’s jacket he wouldn’t let go for the world. And he knows this is it, he knows it’s over, but all he can do is put pressure on the gaping hole in Cavendish’s side where the pipe had impaled him as he begs him not to go.

 

“Cav, please, stay with me, you’ll be okay” he sobs, knowing it’s a lie, but he’s not ready. It wasn’t meant to end like this. He keeps talking to Cavendish until he’s unsure if his words still make sense, until he feels a hand gently touch his.

 

“It’s okay,” Cavendish whispers, voice barely a rasp; but Dakota doesn’t strain to hear it. He clings onto each syllable, willing the sounds to stay with him for eternity. “I must…” he trails off, a timid wet cough disrupting his speech. He’s obviously struggling to speak, and it hurts Dakota so much, makes him want to tell Cavendish to save his strength, but he listens with rapt attention nonetheless. “I must tell you something.”

 

Dakota can’t bring himself to speak. He stares at his partner, willing every detail to remain in his memory forever, mind almost short-circuiting at the details he’d never noticed until now, until Cav is dying in front of him. The mole on his cheek, right on his stupidly high cheekbones, the crinkles around his eyes which betrayed the numerous times he’s surely laughed, and the soft, pale skin now marred by blood. He nods mutely, afraid to speak.

 

Cavendish draws in a rattling breath, and, in his typical Cavendish way, speaks with as much formality as he can.

 

“I love you,” he whispers. 

 

And then he’s gone.

 

“I love you too,” Dakota cries out through his tears, but it’s too late. Cavendish’s eyes stare blankly past Dakota, and oh God, why couldn’t they be closed, why can’t he just be sleeping? His final words hang in the air, taunting. Dakota realises he never got to say it back. Cavendish died unaware that his feelings were reciprocated. He died most likely professing a love that he thought would lead to downfall. He… He only found it safe to say when he would die before hearing an answer, a rejection. Oh. Oh no.

 

No, this wouldn’t do. Dakota leans over, removing his love’s smashed glasses, and gently closes his eyes. He kisses his forehead, softly, and a stray tear falls onto Cavendish’s face.

 

“Don’t worry, Cav,” he whispers, and the lack of the usual protests to the nickname leaves a hollow, empty silence in the room. “I’ll fix this.”

 

Filled with newfound determination, Dakota stands, and though the pain still resonates through him, he walks towards the doors with purpose. He can’t bring himself to look back on the prone form of his partner. It doesn’t matter. He’ll be back soon anyway.

 

As he climbs into the time vehicle, the consequences of what he’s about to do briefly flash through his mind. He instantly dismisses them. It doesn’t matter if someone finds out, it doesn’t matter if he messes up and ceases to exist, it doesn’t matter if HQ finds out and he’s faced with the harshest penalty they can dredge out of the depths of time travel law.

 

Cavendish is worth all those consequences and more.

 

As he turns the key in the ignition and the engine rumbles to life, only one thing remains on his mind.

 

It’s Cavendish. What’re you gonna do?

 

* * *

 

_ Oh, how did it come to this? _

 

It doesn’t hurt to see Cavendish die anymore. It scares him, but at the same time he feels a sort of sick sense of relief; he no longer has to spend nights laid awake, sounds and images of a dying man running through his mind. He no longer has to grieve for a man who is still alive, still okay.

 

It’s lonely, this existence - he deals with such a heavy burden all alone, breaking so many rules he could easily spend the rest of his life in prison, all to save Cavendish. Sometimes he questions himself, wonders if Cavendish would do the same for him; he instantly chastises himself. It doesn’t matter if he would or not. Cavendish’s life is worth more than his and everyone else’s combined. And though he never really says it to his face, though the only times he does is when his partner is slowly dying in his arms and the two are tragically professing their love for one another, Dakota would die a million times over just to keep Cavendish safe.

 

The deaths are scarring. Of course they are. But in a way that makes Dakota feel like he wants to throw up from guilt, he almost looks forward to Cavendish’s deaths; it’s the only time the two are ever truly honest with each other about their feelings. And Dakota has considered confessing in another situation, of course he has, but it never feels quite right. Dare he say it, he’s afraid of how Cavendish might respond when he’s not in the middle of dying.

 

 

* * *

 

“I’d like to air some grievances,” he says, and Dakota wonders if this is going to be another confession. Except this is the last one he’ll hear, because he’s in the vehicle too, plummeting to his death alongside Cavendish. It hurts a lot that he won’t be able to go back and save him this time, but he can’t help the relief that they’re dying together. Of all the ways that it could’ve happened, this is relatively nicer than what Dakota’s nightmares tend to throw at him.

 

But then they’re jumping through time, and Dakota’s first thought is that he’s disappointed he missed the confession, before he realises that they’re both alive and safe and they still have a whole life ahead of them.

 

That is, until they realise the time vehicle is broken. 

 

Dakota’s blood runs cold, though Cavendish, more annoyed than anything, is too preoccupied to notice Dakota’s face drain of colour before he schools it into something relatively nonchalant. 

 

And then they run into a Murphy, the original one, and isn’t that just great. Dakota has nothing against the Murphys, but with disasters happening left and right and with no way to bring Cavendish back if his clumsiness gets the better of him, he is understandably on high alert. Every single little thing makes him jump and sets his heart beating at a hundred miles an hour; he wonders how on earth Cavendish hasn’t heard the rapid thumping that fills Dakota’s ears whenever he hears a crash or a bang.

 

Or when they stand a little too close together and their hands brush, or when Cav stands just that bit too close and Dakota can stare into the other’s eyes, or at his lips and wonder how they would taste when he isn’t bleeding out in Dakota’s arms--

 

He’s too distracted.

 

And when they end up back in the timestream, everything fixed, Dakota could have cried with relief. Relief that Cav is safe again, of course - but a small, selfish part of him tells him that relief is because he’s going to be able to hear the confession again.

 

* * *

 

_ You know I've never been so lonely on my own  _

_ And it shows  _

_ 'Cause I don't see you  _

_ Like I used to _

 

Here he is. He had no other choice. Doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

 

He’d sourced the island, packed his supplies, relearned all the survival techniques that the time travel agency training had forced them to learn. At the time he hadn’t seen the point - when would he ever be stranded like that; what sort of mission would require such drastic measures? Now he feels a strange sense of gratefulness to the agency for the knowledge, even if this wasn’t really the intended purpose of it.

 

Building a whole new society from the wilderness of an uncharted island… It’s a daunting prospect. But Dakota isn’t one for giving in, and he sets to work quickly. It won’t be long before more copies of him arrive; while arranging his journey, he’d witnessed the other (or, he should say, real) Dakota save Cavendish from near-death numerous times. However the other man had died for him, the copy, to exist, it must’ve been pretty horrific for Main Dakota to be so shaken up, so nervous. Dakota knows himself, and he knows that he is good at hiding emotions, at pretending to be calm. The Dakota that travelled back in time, he was anything but calm, to the point that Cavendish began to question his sudden jumpiness for what he believed was apparently no reason. In a way, Dakota #2 is glad he shares Cavendish’s ignorance; he can only imagine what it must have been like. What is still is like.

 

So even as he set up a home like none other he’s had before, even as he mourns the loss of everything he once knew… He’s so grateful that he never had to see Cavendish die.

 

And so time moves on. More Dakotas arrive, each one considerably less scarred than the last, and Dakota #2 finds it somewhat comforting. But it’s scary, the number of times Cav must have died. 

 

He wants to say that he forgot his partner, or let the memories of him stay just that - memories. But he didn’t, they didn’t, and he’s pretty sure it’s impossible to forget someone like Cav anyway. All he had was a picture. And it should’ve been enough; probably would have, if Tech Dakota hadn’t come along and installed a giant screen. He’d mumbled something about security cameras and tracking devices, but Dakota #2 doesn’t remember and, to be quite honest, isn’t sure he wants to know all the details. What matters is, now he can watch Cav.

 

It hurts at first. Seeing Cav on the screen brings down a crushing sadness upon him, and all at once he realises how much he  _ misses  _ him. And then the anger; the irrational fury at the him that gets to stay with Cavendish, the one who is probably taking everything he has for granted (though he knows himself, and he knows that that’s not true. But the envy still courses through his veins, nevertheless).

 

But then, gradually, the longer he watches, he feels joy. Pure, unadulterated joy that he has not felt since before Cavendish’s not-death. He misses him, of course, and he would give anything to relive the sound of his laugh, the scent of his jacket... Heck, even the drone of his nagging, no matter how annoying. But the feeling of seeing him again, talking and moving and  _ living  _ feels like returning home.

 

He realises that he was the one taking it for granted. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone, they say. He thinks he understands that now.

 

The island may not be the best place, and he may miss Cav just a little too much to bear at times. But it’s all worth it to see him on that screen, smiling and stressing and  _ safe _ . 

 

* * *

 

_ Like I told you _

_ Don't look backwards _

_ 'Cause now I see you here _

_ Nothing else matters _

 

Time travellers see death. Of course they do; skipping backwards and forwards in time, seeing someone alive one minute and on their deathbed the next. But it’s not the same, not as scarring, not as permanent when you can just go back and see them again.

 

Dakota sometimes feels he’s getting too worked up about it all. Cavendish is alive. Shouldn’t he be grateful that time travel allows him that? Shouldn’t he forget what he’s done, what he’s seen, and be thankful he could even do it in the first place? He knows he’s lucky, and he knows Cavendish is alive and well from his compulsive checks of him every five minutes.

 

So why is he mourning for a man who isn’t dead?

**Author's Note:**

> [link to the song again so you can hear the dakavendish feels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTSdJEGswtg)
> 
>  
> 
> half arsed the ending lol maybe i'll fix it later


End file.
